


Can't kill a man when he's dead

by samstoleaburger



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, I Tried, I'm Bad At Titles, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Possession, Protective Walrider, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samstoleaburger/pseuds/samstoleaburger
Summary: The Walrider turned as if sensing his presence and blood coated its form. The arms mostly defined and dyed a dark crimson, the rest of it just in patches. It didn't move as it stared at him and Miles couldn't help but think that if it did have a mouth, it would be showing just how pleased it was with what its done.A blood soaked hand rose toward Miles, its fingers curling as if presenting the sight in a way of saying,"See? I did this for you. All because you asked so nicely."And if that didn't make Miles sick to his stomach, he didn't know what would.





	Can't kill a man when he's dead

**Author's Note:**

> This was written mostly from memory, so I kind of tweaked the ending of Whistleblower a bit because a thought came to mind a while back and well...you'll see what I mean. Let's just continue off of Outlast's ending, shall we? (Which I tweaked a little as well because I realized that what I had down didn't happen, as Miles held up both of his hands when he was gunned down...)
> 
> (Rated as is to be safe than sorry.)

He stumbled as the doors swung open, revealing a squad armed to the teeth with Wernicke a few feet behind them. Their guns trained on him and it took a ' _click_ ' for Miles to realize they were going to kill him. That he'd gone through this entire Hellhole only to end up dragged to the basement, pleaded with to end Billy's life, thrown around like a rag doll by the Walrider and feeling like he could use a month's worth of rest alongside a whole bottle of Ibuprofen.  
  
Only for it to end like this.  
  
_Kill..._  
  
Miles didn't have enough time to go through the whole 'life flashing before his eyes' before they pulled the trigger. Gunshots rang out, bullets flying and tearing through his chest. Even with his senses overwhelmed by the pain of whatever the Walrider had done before it vanished, Miles could feel pinpricks and shocks from the shots.  
  
Oddly enough, he wasn't sure if it was because his senses were overloaded or if he was in such shock for most of them to barely register.  
  
_Kill them..._  
  
He dropped his camcorder as he reeled back.  
  
This wasn't how he wanted this to go. He'd fought tooth and nail to get to that fucking cathedral where Father Martin was. He'd recorded _everything_ since stepping foot into Mount Massive and now, here he was, getting gunned down. All because this asshole couldn't comprehend just what horrors he'd forced upon everyone. The torture most of the patients have gone through.  
  
All the shit Miles had gone through may not be near the torment of the patients, but he felt as if he could understand the further he went.  
  
Blood dotted his vision and soon an uncontrollable rage sang through his veins as his body sagged to the cold concrete below.  
  
_Kill them!_  
  
His vision began to black out as an ungodly wail resounded, sounding so close to where he now lay. It sounded angry and familiar and Miles knew that the Walrider had somehow survived its supposed 'death.'  
  
"Mein gott." There was a sharp inhale. "You've become the new -" The renewed gunshots, erratic in nature, and shocked exclamations cut off whatever Wernicke had to say.  
  
Even as he was dying, bleeding out on the concrete, Miles felt as if he could pass peacefully knowing that those gut wrenching and blood curdling cries were because the Walrider was tearing these assholes a new one.  
  
He almost wished he could _watch_ just so he could laugh in their faces. _Karma definitely came back to fucking bite you in the ass, didn't it?_

* * *

Miles groaned as he scrunched up his face, curling in on himself as his fingers twitched. Slowly, ever so slowly, he clenched them into loose fists and cracked open his eyes. The first thing he saw was red, right in front of and under him.  
  
He pushed himself up into a crouch and grit his teeth as his muscles screamed their protests. His eyes realigned their focus as he looked up, blurry clumps soon defining themselves and he saw more red splotches around the hallway. Miles blinked, taking in a deep breath, and realized that the 'clumps' were bodies. Or _were bodies_ , as there were some torn to shreds, organs decorating the walls and floor. The smell of massive amounts of piss and shit stung his nose and he twisted away as he covered his face with his hand.  
  
"Oh God." Miles eventually turned his gaze back to the carnage. "What the fuck?"  
  
Upon closer inspection, the devastation looked as if it was meant to prove a point. It looked worse than when the Walrider dragged Chris through the ventilation system, shredding his body in the process and leaving Miles to stare at the scene in morbid fascination. The fact that it looked worse and had _Walrider_ written all over it had Miles' breathing pick up.  
  
_"Mein gott. You've become the new -"_  
  
Miles' hand slipped from his face as he touched his chest, exactly where it should be covered in holes like he was the human version of Swiss cheese but felt nothing but smooth skin beneath the tattered shirt. "No." He pushed to stand then and stumbled over the bodies, making a beeline for Wernicke's office. He pushed the wheelchair aside in his rush, hasty and desperate. "No, no, no. Fuck me. This isn't happening."  
  
He ran past other bodies that were clearly working for Murkoff. Probably back-up for if Miles had survived the first wave or if any of the patients dared to head to the basement's laboratory. Though it seemed like they couldn't do shit when it came to a nanomachine trying (and succeeding) to kill them.  
  
Like lambs to the slaughter.  
  
Miles slowed to a stop once he reached the entrance to Wernicke's office. He watched as the Walrider dropped its fresh kill and felt a sick satisfaction run through him at the sight of a body crumpling lifelessly to the floor. It was wrong. So, so wrong to be pleased about this, but they tried to kill him not too long ago.  
  
And the Walrider -  
  
_Kill them!_  
  
_Protect the patients!_  
  
\- was cleaning them out of the laboratory.  
  
The Walrider turned as if sensing his presence and blood coated its form. The arms mostly defined and dyed a dark crimson, the rest of it just in patches. It didn't move as it stared at him and Miles couldn't help but think that if it did have a mouth, it would be showing just how pleased it was with what its done.  
  
A blood soaked hand rose toward Miles, its fingers curling as if presenting the sight in a way of saying, _"See? I did this for you. All because you asked so nicely."_  
  
And if that didn't make Miles sick to his stomach, he didn't know what would.  
  
There was a ' _clang_ ' overhead and the Walrider tipped its head back to look at the ceiling for all of two seconds before it dispersed into a cloud and slipped through a nearby vent.  
  
Miles ducked into the office just in time to hear fresh, terrified screams as the Walrider tore into the oncoming wave of soldiers. He turned his attention to the computer and slammed his fist down on a nearby button, forcing the glass pane to the office to close. To lock himself away from any potential threats and so he could watch the mountain's 'guardian' destroy those that dared enter its domain in relative safety.

* * *

Miles, after a long while of silence once the last soldier was murdered, opened the door to the office and went to retrieve his camera. He held it in his hands, turning the device to see if the crack had gotten worse and let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding once he found out it hadn't. He noticed that it was still recording and that the battery was almost dead once he pulled the panel aside to see the feed. With this realization came another, one that nearly had a crazed smile pull at his lips.  
  
If he'd still been recording when he was shot then that meant that he could watch Wernicke and his goons die. Watch the Walrider's rage play out from its new host being harmed.  
  
Miles tightened his hold at that thought and wondered if it meant something when he didn't _feel anything_ about this knowledge. That all he cared about was his camera being safe and being able to finally reveal the heinous crimes Murkoff has pulled. Ones the public funded, even if they didn't realize it.  
  
He turned and jumped once he caught sight of the Walrider hovering just a few feet away. The blood that the nanos had been soaked in seems to have washed off but it still looked as menacing as it had. Maybe more so than before now that Miles knew exactly what carnage it could cause.  
  
The scrutiny didn't seem to bother it though as the Walrider lowered itself to the ground and walked through the puddles of blood toward Miles. It watched him, maybe pondering on how to get him to relinquish hold of his body. To take full control and wreck havoc on the world or some shit. He's seen enough horror movies to know possession, no matter how little, is serious and that the possessor typically wants its host to give up so it could take over. Permanently. While the host rode shotgun to watch the shit hit the fan.  
  
However, Miles couldn't help but watch it move. As if it wasn't as intimidating now than it was when Miles forcefully pulled the plug on Billy. Like it being pissed and trying to kill him was a moot point now that he was the host to a seemingly sentient nanomachine. Perhaps it was or perhaps he's starting to truly lose his goddamn mind after everything that's happened.  
  
The Walrider stopped a few inches from Miles, standing there and not moving. As if time had stopped and Miles was the only one allowed to roam free. Even if he knew that wasn't the case whatsoever.  
  
_"Patients safe."_  
  
Miles blinked, surprised and yet intrigued at the same time. It didn't sound like him, but it wasn't pure static either. He turned his attention back to his camera and turned it off to preserve the battery. "They're safe?" He looked back at the Walrider and watched as it cocked its head toward a body lying nearby. "I'll just take that as a, 'yes,' and that those fuckheads are dead."  
  
_"Patients safe."_  
  
"Right. Okay." Miles grit his teeth and furrowed his brows. "Good."  
  
He just hoped that the asshole that sent him the email was long gone by now and was never going to contact him again. On one hand, Miles shouldn't be too bitter since they were the one to give him a solid lead. On the other, well, he's missing two fingers and has more than a few screws loose at this point.  
  
_"Host safe."_  
  
Miles took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. The scent of blood, urine and excrement still strong in the air. It grounded him, kept him in the now instead of slipping into the dark corners of his mind. Places he knew he shouldn't go, even if he could _feel_ the Walrider digging through his memories.  
  
_"Host safe."_  
  
_Safe._  
  
_Safe._  
  
_Safe._  
  
There was no such thing as 'safe.'

* * *

Miles sat in Wernicke's office, his camcorder on the table next to the computer and stared at the monitor as he reviewed the multiple video feeds. It seemed as if more was going on than he originally thought. A riot had been starting just a few nights before Miles had broken in but it looked like the squads had it under control. At least, that is, until the Walrider decided that it was time to play. Which was the video feed Miles had seen prior to Father Martin forcing him to stay.  
  
He also saw surveillance footage of him wandering the grounds along with a patient clutching to a camcorder of his own like his life depended on it. Given how fucking dark it was, Miles supposed it probably did. Though he saw the same patient stumbling through the main lobby, almost ending up strangled by some corporate asshole but just as it looked like he was going to die in broad daylight, the Walrider had slammed into the suit. While Miles was glad to know that it had protected a patient like he'd 'asked,' Miles figured making the guy blow up and covering the patient in blood and guts was a tad extensive.  
  
However, he rewound the footage and zoomed in to see that it was Jeremy Blaire that had attempted killing the patient. The same Jeremy Blaire that blew him off for an interview and just rubbed Miles in all the wrong ways.  
  
Miles tisked. "Nevermind. Fucking asshole deserved it."  
  
He turned his focus to the latest feed where the patient had practically run outside and nearly tripped in the lot. He watched as they made a mad dash to his car, his car where he left the keys in the ignition like a moron, and noticed a dark mist forming in the center of the lot. How it took a shape similar to his own but it destroyed the cars around it while the guy in his car drove out of there like a bat out of Hell.  
  
Miles stopped the video and sat back in his chair with a shaky breath.  
  
It was day now, bright and sunny outside. A complete contrast to when night fell over the mountain and bathed it in a foreboding atmosphere. Which only got worse as the night wore on.  
  
"Okay." Miles took a deep breath to steady himself and turned his gaze to his camera. "Okay. First things first, I have to get this out to the public." He reached for his camcorder but stopped the second his saw how badly his hand was shaking. Dropping it to the tabletop, Miles cursed and curled his hand into a fist as he placed his other hand on his wrist. "Fuck."  
  
_"Host."_  
  
Miles veered over to the door and paused at the sight of the Walrider looming inconspicuously in the doorway. As if it wasn't sure whether or not to venture further. Which, thinking about it, he figured it would make sense. The director seemed like a paranoid bastard and probably made sure the Walrider had no way of entering the room despite Billy apparently 'thinking of him as his father.'  
  
"What?"  
  
_"Stressed."_ The Walrider took a step forward, inquisitive in nature, and turned to look at a plant that was in a corner of the room. _"Shaken."_  
  
Miles scoffed and a tinge of hysteria colored it as he looked back to his camera. "The word your looking for is ' _traumatized_.'" He took his hand off his wrist and pressed his elbows to the table as he scrubbed his hands over his face. "Alongside 'shocked' and 'fucked.'" Miles hung his head, fingers laced through his hair, and hunched over the desk with a deep breath. "This is so messed up."  
  
He grit his teeth once he noticed the Walrider standing just in front of the desk.  
  
_"Unhappy."_  
  
He didn't bother trying to hide the laugh that clawed out of his throat. Miles simply let it flow as he closed his eyes and soon it took a devestated tune near the end. After sucking in a shaky breath, Miles lowered his hands and rose his gaze to glare at the Walrider. _Of fucking course I'm unhappy,_ he wanted to snap. _This is my last story and no one will know exactly how **bad** things are here. Not only that, but I've got a homicidal nanomachine riding shotgun in my body! My life is over!_  
  
There was an irate whine of machinery before the Walrider got in Miles' face, cocking its head as if daring him to continue. _"Watch yourself."_ It lifted a hand and jabbed its index at him. _"Safe. For now. Watch yourself."_  
  
"Or what?" He waved a hand to bat the pseudo hand away. "I'm already dead. I know I died when I was gunned down!"  
  
The Walrider growled and grabbed hold of Miles' arm, squeezing in a promised threat. _"Safe."_ It nodded toward Miles' chest. _"Fixed."_ The Walrider leaned in and its hand didn't budge when Miles tried to pry it off his arm. Panic and renewed fear racing through his senses as the Walrider tightened its hold again. _"Don't be ungrateful."_  
  
With that, the Walrider released his arm and shifted to leave the room without another word.

* * *

He hasn't seen nor heard from the Walrider since then and Miles isn't sure if he should count it as a blessing or not. What he did know was that it hadn't made a move to force him into submission. Which, granted, was good but it put Miles on edge. The Walrider hadn't touched him since their disagreement in Wernicke's office and hasn't bothered to contact him.  
  
This had gone on for days and Miles was positive that something was going to happen. Like this was the calm before the storm that he wouldn't survive. That and the silence, aside from the machines, was beginning to drive him crazy.  
  
Well...crazier than before if he's being honest.  
  
Miles knew that if he were to return home that he would never be the same man he was when he entered Mount Massive. That he'd be hypervigilant and terrified of the simplest things. How no one could understand being forced to house a demon that possessed nanomachines. The same machines that had mended his wounds as if it was only natural for a parasite to heal its host.  
  
That was the main thing Miles didn't understand.  
  
Billy had been bound to the basement by the machine that had been pumping him full of fluids and whatever else to keep him alive. It had kept the host alive for the Walrider to remain, but both were bound to the basement and the mountain. Now that it was possessing Miles, why the Hell didn't it force him to leave the mountain? Drag him kicking and screaming to the elevator to walk outside in the sunlight.  
  
It should but it wasn't.  
  
Instead, it simply roamed the mountain and the building like a ghost. A ghost that passed over and alongside the patients without so much as a whisper to its presence. Other patients, the Variants, as he read, had acknowledged but didn't bother the Walrider whenever they caught sight of it. As if it was an unspoken agreement to leave each other be without any confrontations.  
  
It didn't explain why other patients would lose their goddamn minds if they saw it. Though, once he reread the old files he'd collected, it made a little more sense than what he'd originally thought. They weren't 'crazy enough' to handle it. Even if seeing it affected them in various ways, as some had mentioned when Miles had wandered around.  
  
Still didn't explain why it chose _him_ as its new host. Miles knew that the place had been getting to him the further he'd gone and could probably pinpoint the exact moment it happened. Or, perhaps, he'd been so bitter at the time that it was just him. No outside influences whatsoever.  
  
Miles knew he wasn't - no. He knew he shouldn't be able to hold the Walrider. He may be less mentally sound than he'd been when he arrived, but he wasn't crazy enough to be possessed. Not if the files he'd read were true. It would explain the chronic nightmares, at the very least. Then again, that could be the shock setting in and his mind deciding to fuck with him by bringing it all back when he closes his eyes.  
  
Like Trager cutting his fingers off. Except with horrific additions of the 'what if's. What if he'd decided to chop off Miles' leg instead? What if he chose to remove his tongue to aid in 'licking his stamps?' What if -  
  
_"Hey, buddy."_  
  
Miles clutched at his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. _No. No, no, no,_ no _! Stop. Make it stop._  
  
_Snip._ He tensed and his hands shook as his breath hitched. _Snip._ They sounded closer, clear as crystal. A rusty old pair of scissors, soaked in his blood. Slippery and demanding for more. To take _more_ , not just his _fingers_ , not just his _tongue_ or his -  
  
_"There you are."_  
  
Miles dropped his head and shook it. Desperate to rid himself of the memories, brief as the reprieve may be. He released his hair in favor of covering his ears in hopes of blocking out the ' _snip, snip, snip_.' "Fucking make it _stop_!"  
  
There was a buzzing sensation under his skin like the swarm of nanomachines were moving all at once. Invasive and unpleasant in its own way, but it was also a reminder that Miles wasn't the only one feeling agitated from the memories. They _moved_ and when all movement stilled, Miles felt hands cup the backs of his gently. Lightly prying his fingers from around his ears and removing his hands entirely.  
  
It was only then that Miles dared to open his eyes and took in a shaky breath once he saw the Walrider. The same Walrider that was still holding his hands far from his head and he realized why once he noticed the dots of blood under his chipped fingernails. _"Terrified."_ It cocked its head as it slowly placed Miles' hands down on the desk. _"Scared."_  
  
Miles twitched, turning his head to the side and away from the Walrider. He could feel little droplets of blood slip down from where he'd unconsciously dug his nails in. He could feel the nanomachines calm down alongside his staccato heartbeat. He could feel the Walrider's hands loosen enough to know he can move his own if he so desired, but not enough that it couldn't prevent him from causing more damage to his physical being.  
  
Though he couldn't -  
  
_"You're safe."_  
  
Miles couldn't hear Trager nor could he pick up faint ' _snip, snip, snip_ 's. The only things he could was the computer's interior fan, the machinery in the basement and his own ragged gasps. He was alone aside from the Walrider.  
  
He huffed out a laugh at the circumstances he'd been dealt. The Walrider tried to kill him, but that was all because Miles had been a threat to Billy's survival. He knew Wernike wouldn't have been able to do shit when he'd thought about it one night. The asshole wouldn't have made it up the stairs and it wasn't like he could send his underlings to take care of it. The Walrider _knew_ they were a threat, which was evident in the video footage. However, Miles hadn't been classified as such until he started pulling the plug.  
  
What were the odds that he'd go from being dangerous to hospitable? He never really could figure out why he'd been chosen. Though, given the lack of available options, Miles still found it questionable as to how he was 'safe' when he keeps expecting the worst.  
  
_"Kill."_ The Walrider removed its hands as Miles turned his gaze back to it. _"They were going to kill you."_  
  
"...what?"  
  
_"They were going to kill you."_ It repeated, hovering in the air and gesturing to the door. _"Planned to."_ The Walrider seemed to pause for a moment before adding, _"After Billy."_ to clarify. _"Never trusted him. Billy was too trusting. You weren't."_  
  
Miles clenched his hands into fists. _So the old bastard decided to kill me just to keep things under wraps. Shouldn't be too surprised, I guess._  
  
"So...what?" He grit his teeth and dug his nails into his palm. "You decided that since I was going to die anyway, you'd just ride shotgun to watch it happen?" To his surprise, the Walrider didn't get in his face like last time. Instead, it moved to the side of the room. After a couple minutes of silence, Miles narrowed his eyes and tisked. "Got nothing to say because I'm right or are you just tired of talking?"  
  
_"Billy."_ The Walrider turned to look out the office for a moment then returned its focus to Miles. _"Was my tie to this place. Kept me here. The doctors forced him into that machine."_ It set itself down on the ground and walked toward Miles as it cocked its head. _"Bound. Stuck. Suffering."_  
  
Miles furrowed his brow. "But you needed him to stay."  
  
The Walrider inclined its head thoughtfully before answering. _"Fixed it. As best I could."_ It rose a hand and pointed at Miles as it said, _"There is no me without you. There is no you without me."_  
  
"Right. Because I'll fucking bleed out to death." He barely refrained from adding on, 'Like I haven't done it before,' and simply rubbed his face in reluctance. "'A parasite relies on its host as its host relies on the parasite.' Got it. Mutually beneficial so long as we don't piss each other off."  
  
_"To put it simply. Yes."_  
  
Miles lowered his hands just enough to stare at the Walrider for a moment before he burst out laughing. He lolled his head back against the chair and pressed the butt of his palms into his closed eyes. A sarcastic smile tugged at the corner of his lip as his laughter died down. "This is so fucked up."

**Author's Note:**

> In case the thought I had wasn't clear: I had been thinking about how long Billy had been possessed by the Walrider and about co-existence, in a sense. You can't have one thing without the other and you can't have this without that. That and I kind of figured the Walrider would actually want to keep its hosts safe because of this fact.
> 
> *motions hand* Again, it's just a thought and I figured I'd finally get off my butt and contribute to one of my favorite games.


End file.
